


baby it's cold (inside)

by elisela



Series: southpaw [6]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Hockey Dad Derek, M/M, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-09
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:55:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27981885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elisela/pseuds/elisela
Summary: The ice has numbed his knees, an unrelenting cold seeping through the sweats he’d worn even after Derek had warned him against it, and Stiles isn’t sure he’s going to make it through the next hour. He grips his fingers into Norah’s jersey tightly, staring into her green eyes that look so much like Derek’s, and takes a deep breath. “Baseball is fun,” he says for the third time that morning, “and we play when it’s warm outside, sweetheart, you know? And—and—Daddy could teach you that, too! Both your daddies! Wouldn’t that be fun? Daddy and I could teach you baseball together!”
Relationships: Allison Argent/Scott McCall, Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Series: southpaw [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2014576
Comments: 13
Kudos: 288





	baby it's cold (inside)

**Author's Note:**

> Insert my usual excuse here about how the love of my life, Lauren, sent me a [tiktok](https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMJqj3grG/) and then I had to write it.

The ice has numbed his knees, an unrelenting cold seeping through the sweats he’d worn even after Derek had warned him against it, and Stiles isn’t sure he’s going to make it through the next hour. He grips his fingers into Norah’s jersey tightly, staring into her green eyes that look so much like Derek’s, and takes a deep breath. “Baseball is fun,” he says for the third time that morning, “and we play when it’s warm outside, sweetheart, you know? And— _and_ —Daddy could teach you that, too! Both your daddies! Wouldn’t that be fun? Daddy and I could teach you baseball together!”

There is no God. Norah rolls her eyes and bangs her hockey stick on the ice, scowling. “I want to do this,” she says, voice muffled by the scarf Stiles had wrapped around her neck four times. “Dad, _stop_ , this is embarrassing. Go bother Harper, she’s scared of everything just like you are.”

His mouth drops open. “I am not _scared_ —”

“Yes you are, you told Auntie that you’d make a fool of yourself on the ice and Daddy said you look like a baby deer when you try to skate—”

Stiles scowls, detaching his fingers from her practice jersey and pressing his hands flat against the ice to push himself up to standing. “Yeah well let’s see Daddy throw a slider, okay, some of us are blessed with actual talent and it’s not like it’s hard to learn to skate, I just haven’t done it yet, I’ve been a little busy chasing you rugrats around.”

Norah doesn’t look impressed; she takes after Derek more than Stiles likes, sometimes. “Can I go line up now? Daddy says we have to be on time to show good sportsmanship.”

He barely refrains from mimicking her. Yes, he’s a parent, but he’s never claimed to be a great role model. “Don’t take your helmet off.”

“I know.”

“And don’t put your hands on the ice, I don’t trust the other kids. If you fall—”

“I _know,_ Dad.”

He doesn’t need to see her face to know she’s rolling her eyes. “And don’t get distracted! Watch the—” Derek’s familiar breathing is in his ear and he licks the hand his husband had clamped over his mouth just to irritate him.

“Stiles, she’ll be fine,” Derek says. He kisses behind Stiles’ ear and swings around in front of him with ease— _showoff_ , Stiles thinks bitterly—pushing Norah gently towards the blue line after he unwinds the scarf from her neck. It’s difficult to hold his irritation when Derek looks like _that_ , only two inches taller once he’s on skates but his already broad shoulders look almost obscene in casual clothes he wears while coaching, and Stiles has to rein himself in before he yanks Derek closer by the strings of his new Brooklyn Wolves hoodie. “Scott’s got Harper and Ben ready but he needs you to get them to their coach. He’s just as apprehensive about being on the ice as you are.”

He accepts a quick kiss from Derek, takes the scarf out of his hands and waits until he’s skating off with Norah, looking perfectly confident on the ice—Stiles should have taken up lessons when Norah did years ago, honestly—before turning around and carefully walking the few feet back to the gap in the boards where Harper is standing. He takes in the nervous look on her face and squats down carefully to talk to her; as much as he wishes that his kids would go for baseball (or anything not involving the cold and ice, honestly), they’d both been excited about hockey for the last several weeks and hyping Harper back up is probably the right thing to do.

His kids really need to appreciate how selfless he is.

“Hey, Boo,” he says, reaching out when she skates clumsily towards him. She’s been taking lessons for the last year and she’s improved, but she seems to have all of Stiles’ natural grace on the ice—which is to say, absolutely none—unlike her sister, who can skate circles around everyone in the family, Derek included. “Ready to kill it?”

“Killing bad,” she says, looking at him with wide green eyes behind her helmet. “Not ready.”

“Just a phrase, it means you’re gonna kick some butt,” he says, and her mouth drops open in a perfect imitation of his own shocked expression.

“ _Daddy_ ,” she says, sounding scandalized. “That _bad_.”

“Grandpa would have killed for a kid like you,” he mutters, standing up and grabbing her wrist, just below her gloved hand. “Alright, let’s get you out there Boo, and you don’t have to kill or kick anyone’s butt, okay? Just listen to your coach and learn to play hockey.”

“Like Nono,” she says. “Me play hockey like Nono.”

“Just like Nono,” he agrees. “Where’s Ben?” 

“Here,” Scott says from behind him, pushing his son onto the ice. Ben shoots past them, nearly ramming into Stiles as he goes, much more proficient on skates and twice as eager to get started. Stiles watches him barrel up to the coach as he walks alongside Harper, her skating still more like shuffling at this point, despite all the lessons, out to the net, taking a wide curve around all the foam blocks and benches set up for skill stations.

He kneels down again, but unlike with Norah, Harper’s looking up at him with an anxious expression. “You’re going to do great, Harper,” he says, pulling her in for a hug. Her plastic helmet is cool against his cheek, and her small arms hug him back the best she can with all the padding she has on. “Try your best, okay?”

“Kay,” she says. Her lip wobbles, and Stiles feels an ache in his chest. He _cannot_ let her quit before she’s even started, no matter how much he wants to grab her up and take her off the ice—anything to fix this before the tears start falling. “Be best.”

“ _Do_ best,” he says. “Just try, Boo. Go say hi to your coach.” He stays still as she turns awkwardly and skates off, plants his hand just as Ben slams into him from behind and ends up starfished on the ice, Scott’s energetic three year old on top of him. 

“Sorry!” Ben shouts.

By the time Stiles pushes himself up to sitting, Ben is back with his group with a stick clutched in his hands, taking wild swings that knock him off balance, and Derek is standing over him with a grin. “Not a word,” Stiles says, and Derek laughs, holding his stick out like an offering.

“I’ll give you a lift,” he says with a wink, and Stiles, not one to turn down any sort of ride that Derek wants to give him, grabs onto the curve and allows Derek to pull him across the ice until they’re back at the boards. “Harper okay?”

“Terrified,” he says, and Derek frowns. “We might need to have that talk about how she doesn’t have to do everything Norah does again.”

“Keep an eye on her,” Derek says, and Stiles rolls his eyes and shoves him away once he’s standing up again. “And try not to get into any trouble with Scott, we don’t want to be kicked out like—”

“Yeah, yeah,” Stiles says, because seriously it was _one time_ and it’s not like he _knew_ Scott wasn’t wearing swim trunks under his towel, and it’s really Scott’s fault because who the hell walked around a pool in a towel with _nothing under it_. He makes a shooing motion at his husband, who rolls his eyes before leaning in to kiss him, and steps off the ice, collapsing onto the bench with Scott.

“Man, he’s still hung up on the pool thing,” Scott says, and Stiles laughs.

“I keep telling him that we could go back and it wouldn’t matter, it’s not like they banned us for life, but I think he’s embarrassed. You know Derek,” he says, wincing when he twists towards Scott. “Dude, I think your kid elbowed me in the kidneys. How does that little thing weigh so much?”

“Pretty sure he’s actually yours,” Scott says, dodging Stiles’ elbow. “Allie sent a picture of Nolan, by the way.”

Stiles nearly dives for his phone, tucked inside his backpack and very deliberately not brought out onto the ice after he’d broken the last one by falling on it during his single skating lesson. “God, he’s so _cute_ ,” he says, grinning at the picture of his eight-week old son tucked against Allison’s chest as he slept. 

Scott laughs. “He looks just like you. Remember that hairstyle you had in high school, when you thought it looked good sticking out on the sides? Same thing.”

“Okay, Justin Bieber wannabe,” he says, throwing Scott a dirty look, “I seem to remember someone getting hit by a pitch because he couldn’t see the ball through his bangs so if you really want to start shit with me, remember that I’m the one who saved every picture and I can do a lot more damage than you.”

“That was a popular style!” Scott protests, and slaps his arm. “Dude, shit, I think Ben just knocked Harper over.”

“She’ll be fine,” Stiles says, hoping it’s true. Harper’s used to Ben’s hyperactivity, at least, and she’s probably less scared of him than anyone else on the team. “Nolan’s playing baseball though, I swear to God. We’re not gonna be a hockey family. That is not happening, bro. I gotta have _one_ kid who takes after me. Derek’s already got two that somehow look like him, he can’t have the third.”

Scott nods, looking serious. “We’ll get him and Lukas signed up for t-ball before Derek can say anything,” he says, and Stiles glances over at him before finding Harper again.

“Lukas? Who the hell is Lukas? Am I forgetting someone’s kid?” He frowns, trying to remember—Isaac and Cora are happily child-free, Jordan and Lydia are in the middle of an adoption but he’s pretty sure it was a girl with a flower name (Rose? Jasmine? something like that), Jackson and Ethan have twins but—Scott holds his phone up and Stiles blinks, refocusing from Harper to the picture of the ultrasound on the screen. 

“Surprise,” Scott says, sounding choked up, and—

“Scotty! We’re pregnant!” he yells, forgetting everything on the ice and tackling him with a hug, sending them both backwards off the bench. Scott’s laughing underneath him as they hit a stack of small orange cones and send them toppling over, causing such a commotion that when Stiles pops back up, every child on the ice is looking at them, and Derek is shaking his head slowly.

“I think Allison might take issue with the we part of that,” Scott says. “But yeah, man, we are. Let’s pick this stuff up before we get yelled at.”

“Dude, we have so much to do,” Stiles says, gathering the cones up. “Shit, I gotta get him a little Mets jersey—oh! Dude! Is that why you guys were talking about moving? A place just down the block from ours went up for sale last week, you guys should totally check it out!”

“Yeah? We—hey, Harper’s coming over here dude,” Scott says, and Stiles turns around to see his daughter crawling across the ice on her hands and knees. “Go check her out, maybe Ben got too close again.”

He abandons the mess to Scott and steps out onto the ice, dodging a kid kicking a soccer ball between his skates, and pulls Harper up to standing. “What’s wrong, Boo?”

“Me hungry,” she says, dropping her stick at his feet. “Snack snack, Daddy.”

“No snack until practice is over,” he says. She folds her lower lip over into a pout and he adds, “Uncle Scott’s gonna buy us pizza if you and Ben do your best, remember?”

She gives him a calculating look and nods once. “Kay. Want cheesy.”

“Cheesy it is,” he says, helping her turn around and giving her a small push back to her group. “You can do it, Boo!” 

The rest of practice passes without issue; Stiles manages not to knock anything else over, only trips over his own feet once when he brings water bottles out to the kids during a break, and after he loudly complains about being cold, Derek takes off his hoodie and throws it over the glass and Stiles burrows into the smell of cedar and cinnamon for the rest of the hour, until Norah slides to a stop before throwing herself into his arms when she comes off the ice.

“I scored a goal!” she hollers at him, beaming. “That’s _way_ better than baseball, Dad!”

“Not a single person in this family has taste,” Stiles huffs, pulling her helmet off gently and kissing the top of her sweaty head. “Go get your skates off. Where’s Daddy?”

“Went to see Boo,” she says, tipping up her chin and making a kissy face until he kisses her again. She waddles on her skates to Scott as Stiles turns back towards the ice, leaning his elbows against the ledge and watching Derek hold Harper’s hand as they skate slowly. The girls love him, he knows that, but they _adore_ Derek, and the look on Harper’s face as she gazes up at him proves it. Harper always looks at Derek like he’s her entire world, the sun that she was made to orbit around. 

Stiles knows the feeling.

Derek dips his head down to kiss him as he gets off the ice before swooping down and grabbing Harper up, handing her off with a smile. “Can you help the girls while I get changed?”

“You’re hardly sweaty,” Stiles says, looking him over. “We’re just going out for pizza, it’s nothing fancy.”

Derek raises an eyebrow. “I’m not wearing sweats to a restaurant,” he says, and Stiles makes a face.

“Daddy always thinks he’s better than me,” he says to Harper, pointedly looking down at his own sweats. “Always gotta be fancy, huh Boo.”

“Fancy Daddy,” she agrees, wiggling out of his arms and plopping on the ground, one leg stuck in the air. “Me did a good job. Help please.”

He wrestles her out of her skates, chases Norah around with a sweater when she decides that thirty-six degrees is warm enough for a t-shirt, trips over Ben twice, and is pulling Harper’s messy hair back into a braid when Derek comes back out of the locker room, looking less like he’d just stepped off the ice and more like he’d walked off a magazine cover. Stiles hates him a little bit—he’s pretty sure the shirt he has on under his sweater still has spit-up on it from Nolan that morning and he’d buzzed his hair off again a few weeks ago as a time-saver, but Derek somehow makes having three kids under the age of seven look effortless.

“I hate you,” he says, narrowing his eyes and using his free hand to pluck at Derek’s jacket. “This is obscene.”

“Okay,” Derek says, ignoring him easily. “What do you need me to do?”

“Grab the bag and your little green-eyed menace,” he says, because he’d seen her wandering with Ben just a moment ago but now she’s nowhere in sight and all Norah needs to cause chaos is ten unsupervised seconds (so maybe she takes after Stiles a little bit after all), “and make her put her coat on. We’ll be done in a minute.”

Harper looks up at him hopefully when he ties the braid off. “Now pizza?”

“Now pizza,” he says, pulling her up and settling her up on his hip. “Did you have fun with your team?”

“Little fun,” she says, wiggling her head back and forth like she can’t decide. “But Ben crazy.”

“Ben’s always a little crazy,” he says. He spots Norah up on Derek’s shoulders and pushes past a group waiting to take the ice, grabbing the backpack Scott clearly forgot about as he catches up with them. “You wanna do it again? Or you wanna wait for your daddies to teach you baseball?”

“Baseball boring,” Harper says, and laughs as he groans. “Nolo play baseball. He be boring.”

“When you’re old enough to be impressed by athletes, you’ll regret this conversation,” he says, smacking a kiss against her cheek and she giggles. “I’m gonna like Nolan best if he plays baseball, and you and your sister won’t be able to say a word. You had your chance to be my favorite.”

“I _Daddy’s_ favorite,” Harper whispers, and Stiles shakes his head as they catch up to Derek, slipping his free arm around his waist.

“Wrong,” he says, winking at her. “ _I’m_ Daddy’s favorite.”

“Stiles!”

**Author's Note:**

> If you'd also like to send me tiktok prompts that immediately make me think of these two idiots that I love so much, you can find me at [tumblr](http://elisela.tumblr.com). Also, you can [reblog on tumblr](https://elisela.tumblr.com/post/637066521096699904/baby-its-cold-inside-elisela-teen-wolf-tv) if you want!


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